


Date First

by FoxPhile



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Fan Forum Secret Santa 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 12:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17142005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxPhile/pseuds/FoxPhile
Summary: It’s Florence’s first time in Sylvester’s home.





	Date First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WeBuiltThePyramids](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeBuiltThePyramids/gifts).



> A Fan Forum Secret Santa Gift for WeBuiltThePyramids. Happy Holidays, Nicole!

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own _/scorpion_. This story is for entertainment purposes only. I make no profit and no infringement of copyrights is intended.**

* * *

"Wow," Florence muttered as she looked around the immaculate space. A neatly made daybed sat along one wall and a small desk and office chair faced into the room from the other side. Two large white-boards flanked the desk, their surfaces covered with the incongruously messy scribbles that were the mark of Sly's profession. The items on the desk were organized even more meticulously than those on his desk at the garage, if that was even possible. Florence supposed that here, Sly didn't have to contend with co-workers rearranging his things.

Sylvester placed his satchel on top of a low table just inside the door, then turned around, returning to the front door. Florence heard the sound of the deadbolt clicking into place. Then she heard it click open, then closed, then and closed a third time. The ritual was repeated with the chain lock.

Florence moved further into the room and continued to take it in. In one corner, a small refrigerator sat under a counter that held an equally small microwave. The tiny stainless steel sink shone in the late afternoon sun that streamed through a window. Florence assumed the cupboard above the microwave probably held an array of cups and dishes and possibly a pot or pan for use on the single burner hot plate that occupied space on the other side of the sink. Canned goods sat in orderly ranks on shelves below the counter, their labels facing regimentally forward.

She could easily have guessed this was Sylvester's home, even if she hadn't asked him to bring her here. But it was  _so small_. There wasn't more than 300 square feet of space, although she supposed there must be a bathroom and closet behind the door that interrupted the wall between the front door and the bed. There was no seating except the daybed and office chair; no television, no electronics of any kind that she could see. Although she supposed Sly could find whatever entertainment he wanted on his laptop. He'd taught her a few things about downloading shows and movies for free.

The room could easily pass for a monk's cell. Even the bedclothes were stark white, devoid of any color or decoration.

"Please, um… have a seat," Sylvester invited her, indicating the daybed. "I have some bottled water if you'd like something to drink."

Florence shook her head. "I'm fine, thanks. Not thirsty." She eyed the bed, wondering if it was possible to sit on it without rumpling the covers. She hated the thoughts of Sly having to re-make his bed before he went to sleep, although she was nearly certain that's exactly what he would do. He might even change the sheets entirely. That led to thoughts of Sly in bed, and thoughts of snuggling with him there. It was a small bed, sure, but if they got close enough, they could both fit. It would be cozy, but cozy was good, right?

She forced her thoughts away from that direction. Since the reconciliation of the teams and the merger of Scorpion and Centipede, her friendship with Sly seemed to pick up almost where they left off. Except they never discussed that big elephant in the room. Which was a problem because lately that elephant had been whispering in her ear that Sly was in love with her. He'd said as much. Worse, the elephant was suggesting that maybe she had blurted out feelings for Walter to protect herself from the one available man on the team and the one man for whom she had similar feelings. Feelings she hadn't had for any man in years - or ever unless you counted a couple of unrequited teenage crushes.

She sat down on the edge of the daybed, her feet dangling uncomfortably. Scooting back, she did her best to keep the comforter from shifting underneath her.

Sly returned from what he must consider his kitchen, twisting off the top of a small bottle of water. He glanced at Florence sitting on the daybed, then went to the desk and grabbing the back of the chair, wheeled it over and sat down facing her.

"Well, this is it. Home sweet home," he smiled. He took a drink of his water and replaced the cap. "What do you think."

"I guess… it's  _efficient_ ," she commented. They both grinned at her use of Walter's favorite word. "I just wonder that you can be comfortable in a place that's so small. This must be the tiniest apartment in Los Angeles."

"Oh… but it's perfect," Sly countered. "Because it's so small, it's very easy to keep clean. I… I'm not very much for owning things, so I don't need a lot of room. Except for my comic book collection and that doesn't take a lot of space. If I lived in a regular apartment building, I'd have to constantly pass people in the halls and they'd be living all around me. Who knows if they would be… clean? Have you ever seen that show,  _Hoarders_?" Sly shuddered. "You can never tell what people have just on the other side of a wall. Here, my only neighbor is Mrs. Belfort, who owns the house. She's elderly and doesn't go out much, so there's not much chance of catching anything from her. I get a peek inside her door each month when I pay the rent and she's neat as a pin."

Florence started to lean back, then realized there was nothing but wall behind her and she sat up straight. "But… don't you ever want to invite your friends over? What about when you were dating your wife?"

A shadow passed over his face for a moment. "I see my friends at the Warlock's Chest. Megan… wasn't able to get out of the hospital very often. When she did, she wanted to go outside. We went to the beach… or to a park… or to the Observatory at night so she could see the stars. She didn't come over here."

Florence's eyes widened. "I wouldn't think you would like the beach. Isn't it kind of… dirty?"

Sylvester smiled. "I don't like the beach," he admitted. "Megan asked to go to the beach… so that's where we went. I loved her. I would have done anything for her." He opened the bottle and took another drink. "You asked to see where I live," he whispered, "... so here we are."

"From everything I've heard, Megan must have been very special." Florence wondered if she should be talking about Sly's wife. She knew her social skills were sometimes lacking. Was it acceptable to discuss a man's deceased spouse when you were itching to get your arms around his very live body?

"She was amazing," Sly mused. "It was at the beach that I first realized how special she was."

She should probably change the subject. She knew Sly held no regrets about his marriage, but that didn't mean thinking about his wife might not sometimes make him sad. The topic was counter-productive.

"Do you ever think about moving… to someplace bigger or maybe closer to work? I love living in my lab. My commute is either down the stairs or across the parking lot, depending on whether you all have work for me."

"The bus ride isn't bad. Although I appreciate when you give me a ride." Sly smiled shyly. "Sometimes I wish the drive was a little longer."

He got up suddenly and walked over to the kitchen, setting his bottle on the counter. Then he turned and exited through the door that Florence assumed hid the bathroom. He came back a few minutes later, wearing a fresh shirt and sweater and holding something in his hand. Florence wasn't sure what he was doing. He was standing in front of the chair, turning from it to the daybed and back. Finally, he rolled the chair back to its place behind the desk then walked back to the daybed. He turned and sat carefully down on the edge, then turned sideways to face her. He held out his hand towards her, opening it to reveal a pack of mouthwash strips.

"Would you like one," he asked. "Or you might want to take two. I always use two."

Florence's hand flew up to cover her mouth. "Do I have bad breath," she asked, horrified.

"No! No. Your breath is fine. I just thought… These… they kill germs. Not as well as a good brush and rinse, of course, but they're sort of like Purell for your mouth."

Florence shrugged her shoulders and took the proffered pack. What could it hurt to have fresh breath? She pulled out two of the strips and popped them in her mouth. The flavor was intense, but minty and it did seem a bit like using a good mouthwash without having to spit.

Sly shuffled backwards on the daybed, his movements completely destroying the smoothness of the cover. Florence handed the pack back to him and he slipped it into a pocket.

"Sylvester, I…" Florence began.

"Florence, I… I need to ask you something; something personal."

* * *

Sly nearly dropped the key as he tried to insert it into the lock of his door. He was nervous. More nervous even than when he'd told Megan he loved her. The difference, he supposed, was that there was still so much ambiguity about his relationship with Florence.

When Walter and Paige reconciled, and brought Scorpion and Centipede back together as one team, Sylvester and Florence picked up their friendship almost as if nothing happened. But it did happen. Florence announced to everyone that she had feelings for Walter and Sly pretty much announced that he was in love with a woman who had no feelings for him at all.

Which made the current situation completely confusing. They were friends, sure. But would a friend be so curious about where he lived; about how he lived? None of his friends from the Warlock's Chest ever asked to see his home. For that matter, even Walter had never actually been inside the place. Given the odd status of their friendship, it seemed even more likely that the woman would avoid being alone with him in such a private setting, unless... unless… maybe her outlook had changed?

Sylvester did his best to see to the social niceties. He offered his guest a drink and indicated where she could sit. When she declined the drink, he got one for himself anyway, hoping it might help to calm his nerves. What helped even more than the water was talking about Megan. Even now, months after she was gone, thoughts of Megan calmed him and helped him cope. Paige knew that. She'd used it to help him get through a difficult task for a case.

It surprised him that he gained comfort thinking of Megan while he was pondering the fact that Florence Tipton was sitting on his bed. Sly did not have the sorts of daydreams he knew other men did; daydreams of… sex. But he  ** _had_**  imagined Florence  ** _in_**  his bed. He'd imagined her curled up next to him, cuddling with him. He knew what men and women did in bed together. He'd even experienced it, despite Toby's taunting assumption. He could even admit that it might be pleasant. Just not so pleasant to be the driving force that it apparently was for so many. Some of his best memories were of lying with Megan in his arms, cramped into her small hospital bed. He ached to find out if he could have something like that with Florence, maybe in a slightly larger bed. His daybed was nine inches wider than a standard hospital bed, it would be roomy by comparison.

Sly felt a clammy sensation in his armpits, a side effect of his earlier nerves. He suppressed a disgusted grimace. He certainly couldn't cuddle in his current state. He needed to change. Excusing himself, he rose, put his water back in the kitchen and ducked into his closet. His normal after work attire wouldn't do. He had a clean outfit ready, but the sweatshirt and pants were much too casual for company. Scanning the array of neatly hung outfits, he decided to use one he had prepped for the next work week. Friday would do nicely. He would have time over the weekend to replace it with another clean outfit. It was nearly unthinkable to put on clean clothing without first taking a shower, but Florence was sitting alone and it would be unconscionably rude to leave her that long. He needed to improvise. He quickly removed his clothes, ran a wet washcloth over everything he could reach, then emptied his small pocket container of Purell in his hands and liberally spread the cleansing gel over his torso and under his arms. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed the big bottle of mouthwash, poured some into a disposable cup and swished it around his mouth. While he dressed, he chastised his own foolishness. As if he would get up the nerve to kiss her during this impromptu visit. It wasn't a  ** _date_**  after all. Plus, Florence had feelings for Walter. He knew that she knew that her feelings were not reciprocated, but that didn't mean she didn't have them, and that did mean she wouldn't be wanting to kiss him anytime soon. He sighed as he grabbed a new bottle of Purell and slipped it into his pocket, along with the packet of mouthwash strips that he'd been carrying recently. He paused, his hand twisting the doorknob. It was unlikely, sure. But if there was one thing he learned between the break-ups and make-ups, it was to think positively – and to be prepared for anything. He palmed the mouthwash strips, smiled and went back out to his guest, feeling refreshed in more ways than one.

_"This arrangement isn't conducive to entertaining guests,"_  Sly thought to himself as he walked back towards his chair. In keeping with his positive outlook, he decided that a more… close… seating arrangement would work better. Even though his daybed was designed to double as seating, Sly never sat there during the day. Still, moving forward meant changing some habits, and this one wasn't so bad. He might have to remake the bed before he went to sleep that night, but it would be worth it. He put the chair back in its place behind the desk, then sat down on the soft edge of the bed, not quite all the way at the other end, but not too close, either.

Trying to think of something to say, Sly thrust his hand out towards Florence. "Would you like one," he asked. Too late, he realized how she would – did - perceive the offer. At the same time, he felt himself begin to slip off the edge of the bed and quickly moved back, not caring how it messed up the covers. He needed clarification. He needed to find out if Florence still had feelings for Walter, or if there was any chance…

"Sylvester, I… there's something I need to tell you," she said just as he announced he needed to ask her something.

* * *

"You go first, Sylvester," Florence said.

"No, you're the guest," Sly insisted, realizing that it was more cowardice than courtesy. He could use a reprieve from the probable rejection he was facing, even if just for a few moments.

"All right," Florence breathed, her hands twisting in her lap. "I think it's time I said something… about what I said… after we got back from Africa." She looked up at him and laughed nervously. "At the very least my timing was atrocious," she admitted. "But worse… I don't think what I said was… completely true. Although I did believe it at the time," she was quick to add.

Sylvester was getting uncomfortable. He was still wearing his shoes and would not bring them up onto the bed; but to keep himself from sliding off, he was sitting so that his calves were balanced on the edge, leaving his feet dangling in mid-air. Whoever decided that a bed could serve as seating was demented. He shifted, trying to find a better position.

"I'm sorry," Florence said. She was twisting a bit of the daybed cover in one hand, but reached out with the other, stopping just before laying the hand on his arm. She snatched it back. "Am I making you… uncomfortable… is it too soon to talk about this?"

"No… it's… it's this bed. It's fine as a bed, very comfortable, in fact. But as a couch it… fails." He looked up at her and shrugged.

"Well, I'm glad it works as a bed," she replied. "Anyway, my timing was terrible. I realize that if I'd kept my mouth shut the team might never have split up; Walter and Paige might not even have split up – or not as badly…"

"Florence," Sly stopped her, "Walter and Paige… I think they needed that break up. They… they needed to see the worst of each other. They needed to face what they  ** _don't_**  like about the other person as much as what they love. They needed to face their own faults, too. The break-up made them realize what they were risking. You see them now… they're so much better than they were. Plus, Paige was wrong to blame Walter for feelings you have." He stopped and looked down a moment. "I was wrong about that, too."

"… and neither of you would have been hurt… or not as bad… if I hadn't blurted that out," Florence broke in. "But… the main thing I wanted to tell you is… I don't think… I mean I  ** _did_**  have feelings for Walter, but they weren't… they aren't…  ** _those_**  kind of feelings." She hurried on. "At the time, I thought they were. I thought I was in love with him. But Walter…" Suddenly she stood up and walked towards the kitchen. "Do you mind if I get myself that water?"

"No… no of course not. Help yourself."

Florence walked the few steps to the small refrigerator and removed a bottle. She took a long drink, replaced the cap and returned, but she didn't sit. She paced, making Sly nervously wonder if he should stand, too.

"It's true what they say, you know. 'Men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses'."

"But you don't wear…"

"I wear a lab coat, which is just as bad, if not worse. I know it's tough for you and Walter and the others… being geniuses in a world of people who don't understand you. Try being the smartest person in the room… and a woman. It goes all the way back to school. It wasn't just the guys, either. I didn't fit in with girls my age. I don't fit in with a lot of women now. I think… I hope… that they don't do it deliberately. But the simple fact is there isn't a lot that I can talk about with most people. I'm a chemistry geek and I like talking about science, but there's just not a lot else. Even you have your cosplay comic book stuff. When Walter and I had conversations, I finally found someone I could just hang out with. I blew it up into something much more than it was."

Thankfully, she stopped pacing at that point, and sat back down on the bed, carelessly scooting back and rumpling everything beyond repair.

"Back then… I knew… or at least thought I knew… that you had feelings for me. That… it scared me…" Suddenly, words were gushing out of her. "Because I had those feelings, too and you were actually available and I've never in my life had a boyfriend and I have no idea how that all works but I knew if I messed it up, and I probably would, that we couldn't be friends anymore so I switched all that around and convinced myself that I was in love with Walter because he was safely taken and if I convinced myself I was in love with him I wouldn't fall in love with you."

She opened the bottle again and took a long swig. Sly wondered if she wished he had something stronger, although he'd never seen Florence drink anything stronger than fruit juice. He went over her entire speech in his head, weighing each word. This could all turn into a disaster if he was wrong; but, he was almost sure he wasn't wrong. Florence just told him she had feelings for him.

Florence began picking at the label on her bottle. "Anyway, that's what I wanted to say. I.. I hope you understand. I know I hurt you as much as I hurt Paige and I'm so, so sorry for that. If… if you're still speaking to me… what was your question?"

Sylvester gulped. He only meant to ask one question, but now he thought he could muster up the courage to ask a second.

"I was going to ask," he smiled, "if you still have feelings for Walter." Before she had a chance to answer, he went on. "But I'd also like to ask if… if I can kiss you."

Florence burst into laughter, sucking in air as she tried to catch her breath.

"Well, in terms of your first question, I think I answered that pretty spectacularly. As for the second, I think maybe we should go on a date first."


End file.
